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Wysłany: Pią 5:07, 25 Mar 2011
Temat postu: Confessions of a Streetwalker_1779
She always get what she's looking for!
She walks the streets looking for goodies!
She's an addict and can't resist yard sales, flea markets, thrift stores and estate sales.
She'll take almost anything home, glassware,
Cheap Versace jeans
, stone, but never old underwear!
The girl can't help it.
This woman will suddenly stop the car, to walk the streets of a neighborhood hosting yard sales.
She prances up and down rows of stuff at any thrift store hoping to find that special item that she can use in her crafts.
In high heel shoes and leather, she strolls the halls at estate sales, checking out stockpiles of discarded items from grandma's attic. She evens goes through pockets looking for
watch
es and coins.
She will solicit anyone to look out for her.
She has propositioned clerks and managers to call her when something good comes in.
The lady offers her services so that she could keep the scraps, extra beads or whatever from the project she has been commissioned to complete.
She picks up beads,
CA hoody for women
, fabrics, jewelry and other goodies by being in the right place at the right time.
Some say she has an obsession, but she doesn't care,
Sebago Shoes
, because she gets paid with praise and compliments on her creativity and that makes her feel good!!!
There's no shame in her game,
Cheap BBC jeans
!
You name it, she does it.
She knits, she paints and she even makes jewelry, she'll try anything once and will accept any challenge.
YEAH,
Juicy Necklace
, she's a streetwalker and proud of it!
The manageress and a guy behind a till were the only people in the shop and I made my way to the walk-in beer fridge at the back. Over the months they had got to know me well and no doubt had their own thoughts about me. But I was probably one of their best customers so they always treated me politely. They could not have failed to notice the huge amounts of booze that I was buying.As I made my way to the beer fridge the shop assistant appeared out of nowhere and greeted me. "Sawubona,
Bape Jeans
," he said. He seemed to stare right into my very soul. I wondered what was he thinking. He sometimes helped me to the car and today would be no different. No doubt I was a shock to him as well. Maybe I was too paranoid. Sure I was gaunt, filthy and sickly-looking but then maybe there were plenty of people like me coming in and out of the bottle store every day. Maybe all that intrigued them was where the money was coming from. That must be a mystery as I looked like a typical down and out. Bugger it. Let them ponder.
The cold beer fridge revived me a little and I always stayed a couple of minutes longer than necessary. I found my beer and asked the assistant to help me carry the case to the till. There I fumbled for the money and handed it over to the guy. He remained silent and passed me the change which I gave to the assistant. He mumbled a quiet "Siyabonga," and carried the case to the car.I felt that I had no choice any more. The liquor consumed all my mental and physical energy. The people who came and went in my life saw me as a babbling wreck. I comforted myself with the thought that they should see me when I was deprived of my beers.I stopped at the fridge long enough to sink a cold one and then walked into the office. My entrance went unnoticed and only Mary looked up and asked how I was feeling. Plonking myself down, I couldn't fail to notice that it had turned into a lovely day.
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